A Fine Line Between Love and Hate
by LemonsAreSweet
Summary: The story of Charlie's search for Monroe before finding him in New Vegas. Along the way, she meets up with a man who is as different from Monroe as can be, but she can't get Monroe out of her mind, or decide whether she wants to kill him… or do something else entirely. Charloe, always, but with some Charlie-and-other lemons sprinkled in.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I think Charlie had a pretty interesting few months on the road before she finally found Monroe fighting in New Vegas. This story explores that, and Charlie's interactions with a man who is about as different from Monroe as you can get. Don't worry, it's still Charloe all the way, but there are non-Charloe lemons ahead too! **

Charlie was in a bar somewhere in the Plains Nation. The town she was in had some nonsensical name, maybe Little Put. She'd crisscrossed the country so erratically, following fruitless leads on Monroe, that she'd all but lost track. Her latest had turned out to be a bust, too. She'd heard that a man claiming to be the former President of the Monroe Republic had formed a war clan that was operating out of the weathered remains of Fort Carson. Well, that had been true, but unfortunately that man had not been Monroe. Just some pretender riding on the coattails of the most notorious leader in the land.

Every time she failed to find Monroe, it hurt a little more, but it also increased her need to find him. All these months with him in her head, it was starting to feel like he'd been by her side. His face was almost as familiar to her as her own-the bright blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, strong jawline… tempting lips. Charlie shook her head. Lately she couldn't stop thinking about Monroe's mouth. And the things it might do to her…

Absolutely she wanted to kill him. No question. He was pure evil, he'd put her through hell and back. But it was easy to forget sometimes, when evil was wrapped in such a sinfully attractive package. And as time passed and her rage at him slowly abated, like the tide going out, she sometimes thought, if she found him, she wasn't so sure what she'd do after all. Not that she was anywhere closer to finding him than she was when she started.

Discouraged, Charlie surveyed the bar around her, swirling her liquor in her cup. A round, loud man with a long, brown ponytail had just sat down a few stools down from her and was regaling the bartender with tales from the road. Given his decibel level, Charlie couldn't help but overhear that he was on his way from New Vegas out to Chicago, where he was planning to meet up with an uncle who owned a bar. Charlie smirked at that, raising her glass to her lips.

"But you should see the scene in New Vegas, man, it's CRAZY!" Ponytail ranted. "I mean just… the WOMEN! They're everywhere! And with the biggest tits!" He swayed slightly on his stool. "And the fight scene, oh man. Just guys beating the SHIT out of each other for the crowds, every night. Famous fucking guys, too." He leaned in confidentially, still speaking at the approximate volume of a bullhorn: "I even saw… General Monroe. Won me some money on that one."

Charlie turned to stare blatantly at the man. Probably just another drunk blowhard, but he had piqued her interest. The bartender, however, looked unimpressed, so the man urged him, "Come on! General Monroe? President of the Monroe Republic? Or at least, he was." The man laughed. "Now he goes by some dumb-ass alias, I can't remember. I think it was… Jimmy King."

At that, Charlie froze. She knew that name. How did she know that name… wracking her brain, she lit upon it. James King. James Wilson King. Chief Engineer in the Navy during the Civil War. That was the name of the guy with the bushy beard whose picture had hung in her Uncle Miles' house when she was a very small girl. He had explained to her that Mr. King had built very strong, very fast ships for the Navy.

Charlie had seen the same picture, in the same frame, in General Monroe's office when she'd been taken there, when they'd first met. She'd recognized it instantly, and she remembered that it had been so jarring to see something from home. James Wilson King. Jimmy King. It couldn't be a coincidence. It was like Monroe was calling to her, taunting her with his choice of alias. _Here I am. Come and get me._

She vaulted off her bar stool and shimmied up to the man with the ponytail. "Hey stranger," Charlie said in her breathiest, flirtiest voice. She thought she might have been laying it on too thick, but the man brightened with interest. "Did I just hear you say that YOU placed a winning bet on THE General Monroe?"

Ponytail puffed with pride. "You did, indeed, sweetheart. Earned me a pretty penny. It was obvious he was going to win-the other guy could barely crawl away afterward!" He chuckled at the memory.

Charlie shook her head in feigned wonderment. "Wow. Where do they even have fights like that? You said in New Vegas?" He'd said New Vegas.

"Yep, New Vegas. Lotta the bars have em, but GOULD. He gets the best guys. He had Monroe, like, every other night-oopsie, I mean Jimmy King!" He slapped his knee as he laughed harder. "Jimmy King! I mean, what kinda name is that?"

Charlie tried to get the man to focus, "Gould? That's the owner's name? Where Monroe fights?" Her face had gotten serious, her voice low with malice.

Ponytail stopped and seemed to notice her change in demeanor. "Gee whiz, lady, what's your deal? He owe you money or something? Yeah, he's at Gould's place. From what I heard, he's been there a long time." He eyed his empty glass and added greedily, "You know, sometimes people think it's polite to PAY for information."

Normally, Charlie would be irritated by this leech of a man, but a feeling was blossoming in her chest that she'd just gotten the lead that would take her straight to Monroe. Overjoyed, relieved, she nudged him with a smile and said, "You know what, you're right." Getting the bartender's attention, she gestured down the rail and said, "Bartender, a drink for everyone, on me!"

The bartender poured out the shots and handed her one, which she downed quickly, then turned to pull her money out of her pocket. A dark, muscular arm reached over her shoulder before she had a chance, putting money into the bartender's outstretched hand. She turned quickly. Standing behind her was a massive, gorgeous black man with close-shaved hair and warm brown eyes. Flustered, she protested, "I was going to get those. I'm celebrating tonight!"

"Maybe I'm celebrating, too," the man said with a wicked grin, holding her gaze. "In fact, now that you're talking to me, I definitely am."

She laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Nice line," she commented, and he laughed, too.

"So what are we celebrating tonight, Miss…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Charlie looked him over appraisingly. Liking what she saw-liking it very much, actually-she replied, "Charlie."

"Charlie... No Last Name Because We're in a Bar in the Middle of Nowhere and This Guy is Already Way Too Friendly," he said, a laugh in his deep voice, still smiling. She would come to find that he smiled virtually all the time. "It's nice to meet you. I'm B."

"B?" she said. "What does B stand for?"

He leaned in close to her and murmured in her ear as if telling her a secret, "Broderick." He leaned back. "But most people find that a mouthful."

"I can handle a mouthful," she sassed back. Deliberately, slowly, she repeated: "Bro-der-ick."

Broderick nodded at the bartender for a couple of beers, "Better for getting to know each other than shots," he explained, sliding one over to her. "So. You didn't answer my question."

"What am I celebrating?" He nodded. "Oh… let's just say I've been looking for someone for awhile, and I finally know where to find him." She smiled grimly to herself.

Broderick looked at her curiously, "Oh really? Old boyfriend? Baby daddy?"

Charlie wrinkled her nose and swatted his arm. "No!" she exclaimed. "Just…" The man who destroyed my family and my life and is rumored to have nuked half our continent out of existence. "An old friend."

He nodded skeptically, and she quickly followed up with, "What about you? You said you're celebrating too."

"Oh I am," he assured her. "Because I just overheard that the most beautiful woman I've seen in months is headed the same direction I am. To New Vegas."

Charlie ducked her head at his flattery, then asked teasingly, "And what's in New Vegas for you? Old girlfriend? Baby mama?"

Laughing a little, Broderick shook his head. "No. Work. I'm going to become a mercenary, working for this woman Duncan."

Charlie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're going to be under the command of a woman?"

"Yep. She pays the best because she hires the best." He gestured toward himself. "Obviously, I fit the bill. Besides…" he added with significance, "I like a strong woman."

Charlie and Broderick talked, laughed, and flirted until the bar closed. As they walked out into the cool night together, Charlie said, "I hope you're planning on walking me home."

"I plan on a lot more than that," Broderick said smoothly, pulling her into his arms. She tilted her head far back, and he kissed her sensually, opening her mouth with his. He tasted of beer and spice, and his body felt strong and hard against hers. After a few minutes, they parted, panting, and made their way back to Charlie's room in the boarding house.

Charlie and Broderick both knew what they wanted and wasted no time getting there. Between heated kisses, they tore their clothes off quickly. Charlie was impressed but not surprised by Broderick's cut, solid physique, and by the look on his face he was equally appreciative of hers. Broderick laid back on the bed, pulling Charlie on top of him. She straddled him, her legs spread wide across his body, bending forward to kiss him, working her wet slit along the ridge of his cock below her. Finally, she reached behind and pressed him into her entrance, sinking down onto his girth with a low moan. As Broderick stroked her clit, she rode him hard and came almost immediately.

After a few more minutes, Broderick's breath quickened and he thrust into her faster. Then, without warning, he threw her to the side and onto her back, straddling her stomach. Quickly, he pumped his dick with his hand, groaning loudly, and he came on Charlie's breasts. She lay beneath him, somewhat shocked, as he grabbed tissues off the bedstand and handed them to her with a conspiratorial grin, unabashed. She quirked an eyebrow at him and wiped off, and they were soon asleep.

That night, as she did most nights, Charlie dreamed of Monroe.

**A/N: Coming next chapter, Charlie dreams about what will happen when she finds Monroe, and questions whether her subconscious is telling her something she's not ready to admit.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope the prior chapter didn't violate any major taboos—I am still new to this! It is strange writing Charlie with someone other than Monroe, but we all know she didn't spend those months on the road knitting. :) And her motives will become clearer soon. In this chapter, Charlie dreams of what will happen when she finally finds Monroe…**

Charlie crept stealthily down the corridor of the boarding house where she'd found out Monroe was staying. His room was down at the very end; the door seemed to be lit with a soft glow. As she approached, her heart raced with anticipation. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for. To finally see him face to face. A knife was clutched in her right hand with deadly purpose.

She tapped on the door, then fell back, coiled to spring. Monroe opened the door, and she crashed through it with a kick, knocking him back into the room. Charlie leapt for him, raising her knife high.

Monroe easily ducked away from her. He grabbed her knife arm as it slashed downward, then her other wrist, so he held her immobile before him. Roughly, he pulled her further into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. Then he stared down into her face. Charlie's breath caught at the sight of him. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Dirtier, more rugged, his eyes haunted.

"Hello, Charlotte," he said smoothly, his face unreadable. "It's nice to see you."

Struggling against him futilely, Charlie spat, "Let me go. Let me go so I can finally END you." She tried to ignore the fact that being so close to him, smelling him, was making her forget why she'd ever hated him so much at all.

Monroe laughed darkly. "You're here to kill me? And this was your big plan? To jump me with a knife?" Slowly, he worked his hand up over hers, raising her knife to his throat, giving her enough play to thrust it forward.

"Go ahead," he urged with intensity. "Kill me." He leaned into the blade ever so slightly, until his flesh dented underneath it, and then a red line began to open up.

Charlie was motionless, unable to do it, but unwilling to pull back. She and Monroe's eyes locked in a heated battle for several long seconds, until he cracked a slight smile. Suddenly, he whipped the knife back and out of her hand, twirling her around so her back was pressed tight to his body.

He pressed the flat edge of the knife to her throat, and her breath quickened with panic. "Or maybe I should just finish this right here. Once and for all."

Tightly wrapped in Monroe's arms, Charlie could feel every inch of him against her. His hot breath on her hair. His firm muscles. And his hot, hard erection, pressed into her ass, no mistaking it. Unable to help herself, she pushed her hips back into him deliberately, savoring the feeling of his want for her.

His response was immediate. "Is that why you came here, Charlotte?" he murmured into her ear, the knife still in place. "To fuck me?" Monroe ground his hips back into hers, and she whimpered slightly with desire. Hearing her, he breathed in and out hard, running his free hand over her body. He dipped his hand down between her legs and rubbed her there wantonly. Charlie arched into him, careful not to move her neck.

Monroe dropped the knife to the floor with a clatter, now ministering to her body with both hands. "Say you want me, Charlotte." He ran his hands up over her breasts, kneading them, then bent down and kissed hotly along the side of her neck.

"I want you," she breathed. "Bass, I want you."

Suddenly, she was naked, lying in his bed, and Monroe was above her, naked too. He leaned down over her, kissing her hard, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Charlie twined her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer. She could feel his hard cock between them.

Monroe broke away from her and reached down, guiding her hand onto him. Charlie wrapped her hand around his cock, humming with pleasure at the thickness. Lightly, she ran her hand over his rock hardness, feeling her body respond, her sex tingling with arousal.

"Show me where you want me," Monroe commanded, staring down at her, eyes clouded with lust.

Opening her legs wider, she pushed her hips forward, lining him up with her entrance. Monroe took his time, entering slowly, then pulling almost all the way back out, then inside again, driving her wild. She tried to push up onto him, but he held back from her. "Bass… Bass, please," she begged, helpless.

Finally, God finally, he thrust into her completely, filling her all the way, stretching her. The friction was perfect, as she felt every long inch of him moving inside her. The sounds of their bodies moving together, their quick breaths, their sighs and groans of pleasure, were clear in the otherwise-silent room. Charlie felt her orgasm building, and she ached for her release, feeling like it had been building for months.

Monroe was getting close, too, moving inside her in a steady, quick rhythm, pulling her to him tight. "Do you want me to come inside you, Charlotte?" he asked, riding the ragged edge of his orgasm.

Nearly over the edge herself, more turned on than she had even known was possible, she cried out "yes," wanting to feel more of him, all of him, within her. Monroe captured her mouth into a deep kiss as he came, groaning onto her lips. At the feel of his completion, her climax overtook her, her nerve endings exploding in pleasure, her body losing control beneath him…

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Charlie awoke with a start, her heart racing, heavy moisture pooled between her legs. Looking around the dark room, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She glanced over at Broderick's sleeping figure and remembered.

Her dream had left her completely aroused, unsatisfied. She had to come. Had to. Charlie worked her hand slowly down her stomach, over her mound, glancing over at Broderick to make sure he wasn't waking up. When she touched herself, her breath caught with relief, it felt so good. Her pussy and thighs were completely soaked with her juices. Dipping a finger into her center to capture the wetness there, she ran her fingers back up over her clit.

Closing her eyes, she tried to think of Broderick. Or that blonde bartender a few weeks back. Or anyone but Monroe. But her mind's vision of him above her, naked and gleaming, hot and ready, wouldn't go away. She rubbed herself more firmly, and finally gave in. _Bass, placing her hand on his cock… Bass, plunging into her, fucking her desperately… Bass, coming for her, filling her… _

Charlie's hand worked faster as she alternated between stroking her clit and slipping a finger inside. And then, an image not from her dream, but from her waking fantasies: _Climbing on top of Bass, plunging down onto his cock needily, working her hips against him as he lay beneath her, eyes closed in ecstasy… Bass losing control for her as she rode him… _

Charlie's abdominal muscles spasmed as she came, her hips bucking slightly, her brow knit in pleasure, her mouth opened in a silent cry, mouthing his name: _Bass_.

As she came down from her high, pleasure quickly turned into disgust with herself at what she'd just done. Had been doing almost every night. Touching herself, getting off to images of her most hated enemy, the man she'd made it her mission in life to kill. What was wrong with her?

Other men provided an adequate distraction while she was awake. But at night, her disloyal mind betrayed her, torturing her with feelings for Monroe that she'd never had for anyone. Images of him that were unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She sighed. Once she got to New Vegas and found him, everything would be alright, she told herself. Once she finally was with him.

Rolling her eyes, she corrected herself. Once she finally killed him.


End file.
